


Bedtime Stories

by greymantledlady



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, BUT more stories may be added, Baby Peter Parker, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dad Steve Rogers, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Each chapter is a complete short story, Ficlet Collection, Fights, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, Marriage, Parent Tony Stark, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Sickfic, Superfamily (Marvel), dad tony stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymantledlady/pseuds/greymantledlady
Summary: Steve laughs and opens his arms and pulls them both in, kissing Peter’s downy head and the smiling corner of Tony’s mouth. ‘Love you,’ he murmurs, and Tony melts into him, onesie and all. Peter wraps his little arms around Steve’s neck for a hug, and Steve holds them both, breathing in the quiet smell of his little family....Various short little Steve/Tony ficlets originally posted on Tumblr and now cleaned up for AO3.Kisses, cuddling, hurt/comfort, massive amounts of fluff and softness. Sometimes featuring Spiderbaby/Superfamily; various AU settings; both established relationship and getting together. Basically, SteveTony bedtime stories with feel-good happy endings.





	1. Onesie Day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to put a little disclaimer here: these ficlets might not have the same polish as the rest of my writing, because they were all written in little snatches on my phone during slow times at work. They're all very fluffy, though, and I hope you enjoy them anyway!

The onesies appear one day when Steve’s just coming home from a day of SHIELD training. Tony gets them, because he’s a giant dork.

Baby Peter is Pooh Bear, and he looks so freaking adorable in his soft little red and yellow bear suit that Steve can barely handle it when he comes in and finds his two best boys curled up warm and cosy, playing pop the cheeks.

Peter’s shrieking in excitement, sitting on Tony’s stomach and clapping his chubby hands against Tony’s puffed-out cheeks to make them pop, again and again. Steve watches them quietly for a few minutes, his heart feeling so full and warm that it could burst.

Then Tony glances up and sees him, and his eyes light up. ‘Daddy’s home!’ he says to Peter, and swings him up in the air and comes over to Steve.

That’s when Steve sees that Tony’s in a onesie too, and oh god, is he trying to kill his husband with the cuteness? Tony’s onesie is orange and black, tiger striped, and Tony’s bouncing up and down with Peter in his arms, saying ‘Onesie day! I’m Tigger!’

‘Tigger!’ Peter yells.

‘No, you’re Pooh,’ Tony tells him. ‘Pooh Bear, red and gold, because they’re the best colours, aren’t they, pudding?’ Tony always calls Peter ‘pudding’, because he’s so fat and round.

Steve laughs and opens his arms and pulls them both in, kissing Peter’s downy head and the smiling corner of Tony’s mouth. ‘Love you,’ he murmurs, and Tony melts into him, onesie and all. Peter wraps his little arms around Steve’s neck for a hug, and Steve holds them both, breathing in the quiet smell of his little family.

'There’s a onesie for you too,’ Tony says after a bit, nestling into Steve’s neck. He’s trying to hide a grin, and Steve narrows his eyes at him and flips the hood over his face.

Tony giggles. 'Hey, stop it, you brute,’ he says, wrinkling his nose and pushing the hood out of his eyes. 'I had to get it made to fit, because you’re so freakishly big.’ He traces gentle little circles on Steve’s chest with his fingers. 'You’ll love it.’

* * *

Peter is Pooh Bear, and Tony is Tigger. So naturally, Steve… is Piglet.

He  _loves_  it.

* * *

'You’re adorable,’ Steve tells Tony later, when they’re all three snuggling together on the couch, Peter sleepy and happy and sucking on his bottle, splayed out across Steve’s chest.

Tony grins where he’s tucked against Steve’s neck, stroking Peter’s silky hair with gentle fingers. 'Says the giant man in a Piglet onesie.’

Steve kisses his forehead, nuzzling into Tony’s warmth. 'I love the onesie,’ he says softly. And Tony nestles against him, because they both know he really means  _I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is my original ficlet posted on Tumblr.](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/162113368012/greymantledlady-imagine-superfamily-in-fluffy#Notes)
> 
> Also, just a heads up: this will be a weekend of updates! Definitely new chapters for [When I Need You (Comfort Me)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8690971/chapters/19924618) and [Clan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11286423/chapters/25247220), and possibly for [Do Not Steal Steve's Pencils](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10293092/chapters/22772441) as well.


	2. Tony Is Sick

It’s the middle of winter, and Tony’s got the flu. He’s hacking and coughing and sneezing all over everything, and his throat is so sore he can’t talk, but he won’t just go to bed and sleep because he’s got a million things he needs to be working on, upgrades for the team and the suit and that SI paperwork that Pepper keeps pestering him about.

So he wraps up in a hoodie and drags himself about, snuffling and miserable and trying so hard.

And Steve’s super worried, but Tony just stubbornly shakes his head when Steve says he should go and sleep. So Steve hangs around anxiously, and makes Tony hot coffee and soup for lunch, and frets silently.

And then, Tony’s leaning over to pull up a diagram on the holoscreen, and he’s sort of dizzy and lightheaded, and next thing he’s crumpling up and falling to the ground.

Except Steve’s there. And Steve catches him before he hits the floor, and Tony’s white-faced and disoriented and shaking, and Steve says grimly, ‘okay, that’s  _it_.’

‘Wh-h-what?’ Tony wheezes, and he’s gripping onto Steve’s arm and trying not to go off into another paroxysm of coughing. Steve holds him upright, one arm around Tony’s waist and the other rubbing soothing circles into his back.

‘I said, that’s enough,’ Steve repeats, and he’s got the Cap face on – or is it the Steve-Rogers-is-not-taking-no-for-an-answer face? Tony’s not sure, but oh he’s so  _tired_  and it feels so nice to not have to hold up his own weight.

Steve’s so nice and strong, and his chest is really soft. Tony rests his head on it without thinking, and Steve’s arms tighten protectively around him. ‘I’m taking you to bed,’ Steve says against his hair, and oh, there’s an inappropriate joke right there for the picking, but Tony’s too tired to make it.

And then the weight is taken right off his feet, because Steve is lifting him up like a baby, one hand braced under Tony’s backside, and Tony wishes he felt more awake so he could enjoy that. He curls his arms around Steve and lets himself go limp, because Steve’s got him.

There is one thing though, that his fuzzy head is telling him is important, that Steve needs to know. ‘Y'shouldn’t – touch my butt,’ Tony mumbles into Steve’s shoulder. ‘P'pl will think – think you…’

He feels Steve huff out a wry amused breath into Tony’s hair. ‘They already think that, Tony,’ he says, and then, softer, 'They’re quite right, too, and you would know it if you weren’t such a blind idiot.’

Tony just turns his face into Steve’s neck and lets his eyes drift closed. God, he feels like shit. There’s something about what Steve just said, something important, but he can’t think properly and he just wants to sleep.

Tomorrow. He’ll think about it tomorrow. For the moment he just feels so  _safe_ , held like this as though he doesn’t weigh more than a feather. Steve’s carrying him, careful and strong, supporting his weight.

Steve carries him into his bedroom, lowering Tony down onto the bed. He tucks him under the covers, bringing them up to his neck and laying a blanket over the top, warm and cosy.

Tony looks up at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. ’T'morrow,’ he croaks. 'Me 'n’ you. Talk. Gotta 'member.’

Steve looks down at him, and his eyes are very soft somehow. 'Tomorrow,’ he agrees gently. 'You and me are going to talk about this if it kills us.’

Tony thinks hazily that he actually likes the sound of that. Steve’s stroking his hair with his fingers, and it feels so good.

And Tony nestles into the pillow and lets himself drift off to sleep, because Steve’s there and Tony’s safe and maybe he’s allowed to rest, just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original ficlet posted on Tumblr.](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/160967014822/but-what-if-steve-was-missing-hes-been-out-on-a#Notes)


	3. Missing Steve

Steve is missing.

He’d been out on a mission, a hundred miles away, and then he’d just dropped off the radar and disappeared.

Tony’s devastated. He’s been in love with Steve for years and years and years, not that he’d ever tell Steve that, because Steve’s lovely and amazing and perfect and deserves so much better than a shitty messed up broken person like Tony – anyway.

Anyway, Tony and everyone else try everything they can think of to find him. Tony hasn’t slept for days, hardly eaten, desperately hacking security systems worldwide to try and find just a trace of Steve. But there’s nothing.

He’s got an old shirt of Steve’s, worn soft and thin but smelling like Steve. (Tony Did Not steal it.) And he’s drained and exhausted and heartsick and nothing’s working, and he finds himself curling into a ball on the couch in his workshop with Steve’s shirt pressed to his face.

And then he’s sobbing, trying to stop himself but he just can’t, harsh wracking sobs that hurt his chest as they tear out of him, crying into Steve’s shirt as he holds onto it with shaking hands. He ends up falling asleep from exhaustion, with no tears left to cry.

* * *

Steve, meanwhile, has just been released from an interdimensional time void by Stephen Strange, and portalled right back to Avengers Tower. And he bursts in to find Tony.

And Tony’s lying there curled up in a little ball, asleep, his little face tear-streaked and exhausted and pressed into Steve’s old t-shirt, his fingers all twisted up in it too as though he’s never going to let it go.

Steve comes and looks down at him and loves him so much it hurts, and God, he’d thought he wasn’t ever coming back, that he’d never see Tony again, and now he gets this second chance and he’s damned if he’s going to let it slip away.

So he puts his hand on Tony’s back and rubs gently, and says ‘Hey. Miss me?’

And Tony’s eyes fly open, red-rimmed and puffy, and he just stares disbelievingly up into Steve’s face for a few seconds.

Steve gives him a little wobbly smile. And Tony bursts into tears and launches himself at Steve’s chest and buries his face in Steve’s neck and sobs fiercely at him, ‘don’t you  _dare - ever - ever do that - again,_  I hate you,  _I hate you,’_  except he’s clinging on to Steve and shaking and curling himself closer and it doesn’t really feel like he hates Steve at all.

And Steve peppers little kisses all over Tony’s forehead and hair, whispering ‘I won’t - I couldn’t help - I love you, god, I love you, Tony, I love you, I missed you so much.’

And then he kisses Tony’s little wet face, and Tony grabs his face and comes desperately towards him until their lips meet, and Steve kisses him softly, pouring all his love and longing into it, kissing away the taste of Tony’s tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original ficlet posted on Tumblr.](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/160967014822/but-what-if-steve-was-missing-hes-been-out-on-a)


	4. Comfort & Lip Tap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two shorter ones today. :)

Sometimes, Tony hides his face in Steve’s neck when he’s sick or tired or sad. He simply comes and drops his face there without saying anything, pressing into Steve’s skin and twisting his hands in Steve’s shirt and breathing shakily.

And Steve says softly, ‘Oh, darling,’ and puts his arms around Tony and holds him close. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, not yet, just holds Tony there and pets the back of his neck with a gentle finger and rocks him a little bit. One hand sneaks under Tony’s t-shirt to find the warm soft skin of his waist, and Steve draws light comforting little patterns there with his fingertips.

It doesn’t really matter if Tony’s here because he’s sad or sick, or just tired of everything. What matters is that Steve’s there. He’s  _always_  going to be there, as long as Tony needs him.

He kisses Tony’s hair, and Tony curls in even closer to the heat of Steve’s body. ‘I’ve got you,’ Steve says. ‘I’ve got you.’

 

* * *

 

This second fic was directly inspired by a Tumblr post by [savedbythenotepad](http://archiveofourown.org/users/savedbythenotepad). (All credit to Precious [@saved-by-the-notepad](http://saved-by-the-notepad.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, go follow them!) – 

_Whenever he wants a kiss from Steve, Tony taps his lower lip and he receives one within seconds._

~

Tony’s just feeling really tired. Tired and sad and  _needing_.

But Steve – Steve’s reading a book, and he might be busy. And Tony knows Steve said  _any time you want it, any time at all_ , but what if this is the time that Tony annoys Steve just enough that he gets tired of Tony and his insecurities?

But oh, he really, really wants to just have Steve kiss him so that he forgets everything, drowning out all the diagrams and accusations and theories and swarming  _thinking_  inside his head that he can’t turn off. 

And so he keeps his head down over his tablet and eases his hand up to his face, and just brushes his fingertip very lightly over his bottom lip. Because this way Steve might not even notice, and if he  _does_ get irritated then Tony can just say he didn’t mean to, it was just a chance gesture he made without thinking…

‘Oh, Tony,’ Steve says quietly. And Tony’s head jerks up, and Steve’s looking at him with the softest look in his eyes, and he’s putting his book down and coming towards him.

And he sits down and puts his arm around Tony, drawing him close, and his other hand tips Tony’s face up – and then he’s kissing him, soft, so very soft and comforting and everything Tony had been needing, and Tony makes a little sound of utter relief in his throat, and kisses back. 

And when they come apart, Steve cuddles Tony into his chest and presses little kisses into his hairline. ‘One day, sweetheart,’ he whispers. ‘One day you’ll believe me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Tumblr posts for the [first fic](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/162648308027/imagine-tony-hiding-his-face-in-steves-neck-when) and the [ second fic](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/161140814502/saved-by-the-notepad-whenever-he-wants-a-kiss).


	5. Sweet As Pie

Steve makes apple pie, all cinnamon and brown sugar and crispy golden pastry.

Tony’s down in his workshop all day, wondering where Steve is. Steve’s been coming down every day recently, sitting there sketching and frowning over the art course he’s doing via correspondence. It’s been their little routine; Steve brings Tony coffee and sometimes they talk and sometimes it’s just quiet, and it’s _good_.

It feels kind of empty today, somehow, without Steve there. Tony feels itchy and awkward and lonely and grumpy, and when he finally hears Steve coming in he doesn’t look up or say hello, which is childish but who cares.

‘Hey,’ Steve says behind him, and okay, that’s weird, what’s that sweet cinnamon smell? Tony turns around, and he’s going to go for nonchalant (he hasn’t been _missing_ Steve, that would be stupid).

But then he sees that Steve – Steve is wearing an apron? And he’s carrying a hot, steaming, golden apple pie. Tony’s eyes go round.

‘Steve?’ he says, ‘What - why are you carrying a pie, what are you doing?’

Steve’s cheeks are pink but he’s smiling down at Tony with soft eyes, and it’s – it’s too bright, and somehow Tony can’t look at Steve properly.

'I made it for you,’ Steve says, and then he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, casting his eyes downward. His stupid pretty eyelashes are so _long._ And Steve stutters out, 'Because – because you’re sweet as pie, Tony, and I - I wanna take you out, on. On a date.’

'Oh my God,’ Tony says. 'You did not. Did you really? “Sweet as pie”, did you, did you actually say that? About me?’

Steve carefully puts the pie down on the nearest flat surface. 'Yep,’ he says, and wow, okay, this is, wow, Tony can totally get with this because Steve is reaching for him, one firm hand at Tony’s waist and the other cupping the back of his neck, guiding his face up.

And Steve bends down and kisses him, slow and gentle, and Tony’s senses are on overload because everything is Steve, and he tastes like cinnamon and sweet apple and he feels so warm and good.

When Steve pulls back a little, Tony’s eyes stay closed for moment, fluttering, and he makes a little soft protesting sound. And Steve laughs quietly and presses his nose against Tony’s.

'Sweet as pie,’ he whispers, and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _God_ , Steve, you're such an embarrassing dork. Where did that come from?
> 
> [Original ficlet posted on Tumblr.](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/post/158537319752/steve-makes-apple-pie-all-cinnamon-and-brown)
> 
> In other news: there was a new chapter for [Do Not Steal Steve's Fricken Pencils (Or Poke Tony's Bottom With Your Ruler)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10293092/chapters/22772441) yesterday - enjoy!


	6. Apologies

Tony’s hunched up in the rocking chair next to the cot, small sleepy Peter splayed over his chest and snuffling into his neck. Tony has them both wrapped up in the big soft red blanket, because it’s warm and comforting and smells nice, and Tony needs that rather badly right now.

Peter shifts restlessly against him, his breath hitching in his sleep with the memory of a sob. Tony curls around him, feeling small and alone and – bruised, somehow.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispers to Peter’s sleeping, downy head. ‘He’s coming back, don’t worry, baby boy, he’s coming back to us, he’s just - just taking a while, but he’s coming soon, I promise. He  _is_.’ He breathes in Peter’s milky baby smell, chewing his lip and closing his eyes. His throat’s stinging, but he swallows bravely and keeps his breathing slow and steady.

They hadn’t fought in front of Peter - their explosions were all done outside the tower - but Peter is restless and unsettled, knowing something’s wrong without his Papa there. He wouldn’t sleep in his cot, hauling himself up by the side bars to press his face against the gap between and wail heartbreakingly to be picked up. Tony had taken one look at his tear-streaked, pitiful little face, and scooped him up into his arms to cuddle and pet him, and Peter had fallen into a restless sleep on his chest.

And – well, perhaps Tony needs the comfort as well, so he sits and rocks them both gently in the chair, and waits.

He wonders where Steve is now. They’d shouted at each other, Tony abrasive and sarcastic, Steve rigid and arrogant. Finally, Steve had clenched his jaw, eyes pale and angry, grated, 'I need some air,’ and then simply strode off into the streets without a backward glance.

Tony’s sorry. God, he’s sorry – perhaps not for the original argument, but after – after. He’s tried so hard,  _so_  hard, because he wants to be good to Steve. He wants to be gentle, but his tongue has always been too sharp, hurting and digging and twisting expertly, and the life he’s led has only made it sharper. It cuts like a knife, but – but it wasn’t meant to cut Steve. Not any more.

But he’d been hot and angry and shaking, furious in the way only Steve could make him; and the words had come slicing out. and he’d stood there with his lips moving, hardly hearing his own words, but watching Steve’s face grow colder and harder with dislike, and Tony had been somehow, horribly, viciously glad that he could hurt Steve this badly.

But now – now, he’s sorry.  _God_. He’s so sorry, and he hates himself and he just wants – he wants Steve to come and hold him, and he wants Steve to look at him with his softest look, the best look of all, his eyes as blue and clear as deep water and his mouth a tender little curve, not quite a smile but something even better.

What if Steve never looks at him like that again? Tony squeezes his eyes tighter against the hot prickles behind them. What if he’s finally driven Steve away? The only image of Steve he can picture is that cold face, lips pressed firmly in disgust.

He swallows miserably. Something wet slips slowly down his cheek, and he doesn’t wipe it away, because there’s no one to see. He holds Peter tight, and the room goes dim in the twilight of the evening.

* * *

'Tony?’

It’s very quiet, but Tony sucks in a little sharp breath, tensing in the darkness. 'Steve,’ he answers in a whisper, mindful of the sleeping child in his arms; and then he just can’t stop, it all comes pouring out in a breathless pleading rush of half-whispered words. 'Steve, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, everything I said, I just - I’m so sorry, Steve…’

He’s hiccupping in amongst the words, shaking a little and trying not to wake Peter, and then – then there’s warm arms all around him, holding him carefully in a protective circle. Steve’s face is leaning against his, and gentle kisses are being brushed across his face, slow and tentative, each one a soft apology.

'Oh, Tony,’ Steve says softly. 'Oh darling.’ He kisses Tony’s eyelids, his nose, the dip beneath his temple. 'I’m sorry as well. I love you.’

Tony gulps out loud in relief. 'I love you too,’ he blurts, and it’s too loud and Peter’s stirring, so Steve lifts him off Tony’s chest, turning the lights up a little.

Peter settles easily back into his cot when Steve lifts him in, sensing that things are back to normal. He hardly wakes, snuffling sleepily as Steve kisses his forehead and Tony tucks him in and smooths his hair; and Steve is looking longingly at Tony across the cot and Tony wants to laugh and cry with relief, and he also wants very much for Steve to kiss him.

Steve pulls him close into the curve of his arm as they leave Peter’s room, and Tony curls in happily. Then Steve’s pulling him into his arms, burying his face in Tony’s hair. 'My Tony,’ he’s saying in a low voice, 'oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry for what I said.  _God_ , Tony.’

Tony nestles against Steve’s chest, hiding his face. 'I said worse,’ he mutters, penitent. It feels like all the fight’s gone out of him a long time ago, and he just wants to wrap himself up in Steve and sleep for a long time.

'Guess we just know how to hurt each other a bit too well,’ Steve murmurs, rueful, and Tony nods, closing his eyes tiredly. He presses his nose in the gap between two of Steve’s buttons, and Steve’s hand comes up to cup the back of Tony’s head, fingers sliding soothingly through his hair.

After a little, there’s a gentle thumb caressing his nape, deliciously light. Tony quivers in pleasure, and then Steve says huskily, 'please – look at me?’

Tony looks up into his face, and Steve’s look is – so soft, that softest look with tender-tilted waiting lips, and Tony’s heart gives a wild beat of joy. And he reaches up and Steve leans down, and they’re kissing gently, enduringly, melting together, using hands and lips to smooth away the wounds they’ve given. 'Steve - Steve,’ Tony says against his lips, and somehow he’s crying a little, and laughing at the same time, and Steve is smiling wide and bright as morning sunshine against his cheek.


	7. Superfamily Christmas Decorating

‘Daddy,’ Peter says insistently, tugging Tony’s hand. ‘Daddy, Daddy! What that? What that, Daddy? Daddy!’

Tony grins down at him, hefting the box he’s carrying on his hip. It’s a little hard to balance while also guiding a still wobbly toddler by the hand, but he guesses it comes with the territory. He’s not going to let Dummy carry it for him, not after last year’s fiasco.

Peter tugs his hand insistently, lurching a little and then steadying himself with his other little paw clutching Tony’s t-shirt. 'Whoops!’ Tony chuckles, slowing down. 'Christmas decorations, sweetheart. Wanna help Daddy decorate the tree? How about that?’

Peter frisks his little legs on the floor like a puppy in excitement, nearly toppling over again. 'Chrimmis decker! Daddy decker! Peter decker!’

Tony gurgles with laughter. 'That’s it, honeybee. Let’s decker the halls.’

'YES,’ Peter agrees loudly, and then, hopefully, 'Papa decker?’

'Not yet,’ Tony tells him. 'Papa’s got a S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting. But he’s coming home soon, and then we’ll ask him to do the high ones, okay?’

'High,’ Peter says wisely, nodding. 'Papa high, good!’

'I’ll tell him you approve,’ Tony says, eyes dancing. He sets the box down with a huff of relief. 'Let’s see what we’ve got here. Want to help unpack, Petey-pumpkin?’

Peter plumps down on his padded bottom. He looks inside the box and gasps loudly. 'Daddy!  _Daddy!_ Shiny!’

'Yeah, pretty shiny,’ Tony agrees, looking consideringly up at the tree. 'Okay, let’s start with tinsel. Can I take that long string, baby boy? That’s right, you play with those big ones while I decorate the tree.’

* * *

Steve stands in the doorway for a moment, watching his husband and son with soft eyes. Peter’s lying on his back on the ground, chubby legs waving drowsily in the air, nursing a little snowman ornament against his face; Tony is stretched up on his tiptoes, trying to fix a snowflake onto a branch that’s much too high for him.

God, Steve loves them so much.

He comes up quietly behind Tony, resting gentle hands over the little strip of skin showing at Tony’s waist. 'Need some help, sweetheart?’ he says softly by his ear, brushing his nose against the soft skin beneath it.

Tony leans back into Steve’s chest with a happy little hum. He nestles his head into the crook of Steve’s shoulder and turns his face towards him with crinkled eyes; Steve smiles back and bends over to gently kiss the glad little quirk at the corner of Tony’s mouth.

'Glad you’re back, big guy,’ Tony says softly, and Steve’s just about to swing him round and kiss him properly, but then there’s a joyous shriek and a small warm body colliding with his legs.

'Papa!’ he shouts. 'Papa come! Peter  _hug_ ,’ and he does, squeezing tightly around Steve’s legs.

Steve chuckles, dropping a final kiss on Tony’s temple before letting go so he can scoop Peter up in his arms.

'Daddy not high ‘nuff,’ Peter tells him gravely, after a moment. 'Not high. Decker tree! Papa high. Papa help?’

Steve bursts out laughing. 'Okay,’ he grins, winding his free arm around Tony.

Tony leans into his side, warm and touchable. 'Go on then,’ he says softly, but Steve’s arms are full of his family,  and he doesn’t want to let go quite yet.

'In a moment,’ he murmurs, and rests his cheek against Tony’s forehead, holding them both close.

Decorating can wait just a bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [follow me on Tumblr](http://greymantledlady.tumblr.com/) if you want fluffy Steve/Tony ficlets like these on your dash. :)


End file.
